


You'll Never Know, Dear, How Much I Love You

by Flirty_Banana



Series: Sun Through the Clouds [2]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alexander is still my fluffy boi, Angst, Character Death, Fluffy and Cute, Graphic Violence, He's just scary, I love this pairing, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Rare Pairings, but only when his Nicky is involved, cause i do, cute and angsty, did I mention that?, idk - Freeform, is that even a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 20:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18978232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flirty_Banana/pseuds/Flirty_Banana
Summary: Nick knew something was wrong the moment he set his eyes on Alexander.The body was the same, the scars were all their.The same smile, the same dimple at his left cheek, the squint of his eyes when he was thinking.But still.Something was wrong.OrAdalind tries to be a ho (to steal Nick's superpowers), and Alexander flips his shit.





	You'll Never Know, Dear, How Much I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> back at it agin at Krispy Kream. XD
> 
> But no really, thanks to anyone who is reading this! And whoever has come back after the first part! (and you know, maybe got a little excited when they saw a second part to it?) I might make a third part. MAYBE.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Nick knew something was wrong the moment he set his eyes on Alexander.

They were supposed to be getting ready for Monroe and Rosalee’s wedding. Juliette and Alexander had left that morning to make their own preparations (Juliette’s at the hair salon, and Alexander picking up his new suit from the tailor. Pointedly ignoring Nick’s reminder of all the various sets of clothing he already had.) And Nick had just left work early to get ready the sane way.

However, Alexander had apparently returned home early (Impossible, because he had just texted him at the tailors five minutes ago) sans suit, and well…..any clothing at all really.

Nick eyed up his lovers body greedily, the taller man had just exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair damp against his forehead. But something was wrong. 

It was definitely the same body, the familiar curves, and dips, of his arms, and abdomen. The slope from a broad chest down to a narrow waist. The calluses on his hands, the softness of his skin. 

The eyes were wrong, to smoldering and seductive in their look.

The face was wrong, to cocky, absent of the blush that, no matter how tame it had grown, would still blossom at being caught unclothed. (Most likely because of the look Nick always gave him. The one he is giving him now)

The scars were all their, each and every one that Nick knew so intimately, having traced them with lips and tongue, and fingers many times over.

From thin, silvery knife wounds above his left hip, and just under his right pectoral, to raking, jagged claws peaking over his shoulder, and a particularly nasty bullet hole precariously close to his heart.

But despite the perfect copy of his beloved’s beauty, and imperfections. Something was still wrong.

Nick knows his lover, knows him better than anyone, even better than Alexander himself. So when whatever it is that _dares_ wear his face begins to advance upon him, sex and heat and so many other things that were never in his eyes because _heaven forbid he was ever so forward_.

It is because of this that Nick feels no remorse for punching his dearly beloved in the face.

Several times.

Hard.

__________________________

Alexander hustled into the house, suit in hand and closing the door hurriedly, before turning to run up the stairs.

He still had to shower, shave, style his hair, bully Nick into letting him at least fix his, and then— His train of thought is interrupted when Nick comes down the stairs, stopping in front of him, a rather odd look on his face. Alexander sets down his load, and places a hand on his shoulder, a glance down reveals a possible explanation. “Dearest, what is wrong? Your hands are bleeding.” And surely as the sun is shining, Nick’s knuckles are bleeding, like he had punched someone particularly hard.

Several times.

Nick blinks up at him, “I think someone just tried to seduce me.” And that startles him, someone in their house, trying to take and touch what is his. He pushes the voice in his head away, the voice that sounds eerily like his own, that tells him _too bad, knew it wouldn’t last, he played you, why did you think he could love someone like you, you are worthless—_

Because Nick wouldn’t, wouldn’t throw him aside, wouldn’t throw his trust, his vulnerability, his feelings into the bin like spoiled food.

So instead he asks, “Here? In our house?” Nick nods, “They looked like you, sounded like you, hell they even smelled like you. Which is very creepy when I think about it.” Alexander considers this for a moment, “How did you know it wasn’t me then?” And damn it even he can hear his own self doubt, apparently so does Nick judging by the smile he gives him. Soft, and comforting, before it changes into something utterly _wicked_.

Nick leans forward, pressing himself along his front and winding his arms around his neck. “Well, seeing as though they could describe to me all the different ways they wanted to _fuck, and suck me_ without even the slightest bit of your dorkish embarrassment, it was pretty obvious.”

Alexander’s face _boils_ , and damn if he isn’t getting tired of that by now.

Clearing his throat he places his hands at the Grimm’s waist, “And where are they now?” Nick grins, “They might have taken a tumble out the window. Think you can catch a scent?”

Alexander hums, pressing a kiss to soft lips.

____________________________

Contrary to what he told Nick, Alexander did indeed catch a scent.

They go to the wedding, Alexander watches fondly as Nick stands beside his friends as they say there vows. He hands them their wedding present, shaking Monroe’s hand, and pressing a kiss to Rosalee’s cheek. He and Nick mingle with the other guests, mindful of his sunglasses, and dance when the sun begins to set. It is peaceful, and the air is thick with love and happiness. All in all it is a lovely experience, and he sincerely wishes Monroe and Rosalee the best as they leave the venue.

Now the sun has gone down, Nick and Alexander have both showered (together, even though that means there are some _distractions_.) and together they collapsed into bed.

Only.

Alexander finds that sleep is eluding him.

He gazes down at the warmth in his arms, the moonlight cascading across the relaxed features of his dearest, casting a ghostly light on his beauty, it makes his look enchanting.

He lifts himself gently from the bed, and pulls on the pair of shoes he left underneath. (Converse, yellow, Nick had bought them for him, apparently appalled at his lack of casual wear.) and he creeps from the room. Neglecting to don clothing, much to aware of his Grimm’s rather astounding hearing, and skulks downstairs where he will then escape out the kitchen window and steal into the night. The doors all creak, and the windows groan.

Alexander caught a scent, and he intends to hunt.

______________________________

The scent, as he suspected, leads him to ritzy hotel on the south side of Portland. Here he suspects he will run into a certain blonde Hexenbiest.

He sticks to the shadows and dark crevices, he did not become one of the councils top agents through sheer luck, and makes his way to the tenth floor, room 1016. He waits until Adalind Schade makes her way to the door, room service if he is correct, before lifting the window of the bedroom and stepping inside.

Expensive hotels are good for breaking in, nothing squeaks at inopportune moments.

He heads through into the living area, and steps into the shadows of the small kitchenette, he’s almost right next to the Hexebiest and she doesn’t even know it. He watches as she turns, leading the worker inside, he waits until the boy is gone, before he emerges from his dark corner.

“Good evening Ms. Schade.”

Adalind’s head snaps up, and her face pales as she realizes someone she doesn’t know is in her room. Her face turns positively _terrified_ when she realizes just _who_ he is. “What do you want.” He can taste her fear.

He knows he doesn’t look like the most conventional assassin, vengeful boyfriend really, with the soft, linen pajama pants, the nightshirt, (all in black, he’s not stupid) and topped off with the ostensibly yellow converse. But he is dangerous, and she knows this. Can see it in his eyes, glowing a feral blue, hear it in his voice as he taunts her, nearly a growl by this point, and see it in his face as something non-human shifts just under his flesh.

Begging to be let out.

Begging for blood.

Her blood.

And he Woges, and roars, and then he lunges. The fight, barely qualifying as such, is really nothing more than one sided slaughter. He throws her through a wall, his claws leaving long jagged marks that rake from her face down to her abdomen. She pushes him into a table, and he picks the two broken halves up and pelts her with them, the first misses, the second slams into her chest and knocks her down. He’s on her in a second, claws catching every part they can get a hold of.

Alexander is not stupid, he is a professional.

He knows how to kill, he could have ended this in a second, slit her throat, or yanked out her trachea. But he doesn’t. He wants her to suffer, wants to see the desperation in her eyes as she tries to fight back, and fails.

Her body seizes, and she pushes him into the arched ceiling, and she rolls away. He lands on all fours, feral and bloodthirsty. She staggers for the door, her leg at least broken. He growls in satisfaction, and _roars_ , lunging and tackling her to the ground.

He rips her throat out, and watches her choke to death on her own blood.

_______________________

He is lying in bed now in the early morning hours, changed into a different pair of pajamas, and clean of all blood and gore.

It’s Sunday and they always sleep in today. He stares disinterestedly at the news report on his phone, one Adalind Schade was found mutilated in her hotel room today, after just coming back from a vacation in Vienna.

He is curled happily around his Grimm, and yes he knows he’s purring, and no he sees no reason to stop.

Take that you Hexebiest bitch.

~End

**Author's Note:**

> YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS
> 
> I am so happy to be publishing A SECOND part of this story! I absolutely adore this pairing, and I was so sad when I found out literally NO ONE had ever written about this couple. So being able to write about them (And people even liking it) Is such an amazing thing! Thank you all, whoever has made it this far, and I hoped you enjoyed it!


End file.
